I hate the phrase “mommy brain.” It’s a cutesy saying for a really crappy state of existence. It’s like the equally lame “mummy tummy.” There’s nothing cute about the Shar Pei-like skin that’s hanging around my midsection these days. And there’s nothing cute about the fact that I’ve totally lost my mind.
Since I had kids my brain has turned to mush. I can barely finish a sentence. I remember being on the phone with the mattress guy once when it took me a solid 25 seconds to remember the word “mattress.” Never mind that the word “mattress” was written right in front of my face on a Post-it.
My daughter always laughs at what she calls my “dumb brain.” “What did you forget now?” she’ll cackle as I turn the car back for home for the umpteenth time. Well, screw her and her little eager, uncluttered, fresh young mind! I could string together a coherent sentence when I was a kid too!
Little does my daughter know that I hold her and her brother 100% responsible for my lack of mental fortitude. Who the heck can remember anything when they’re getting interrupted 4,500 freakin’ times a minute??? You start to have a thought as a mom and it’s like the kids can smell your mental wheels turning and BAM! In they come whining or freaking out or asking for a snack and totally throw you off topic:
Me: Hmmm, what should I make for dinner?
My kids: Mom! MOM! MOOOOOMMMMM! Where’s that teeny, tiny blue plasticy thing that came with that thing that I got for my birthday like 2 years ago?
Me: The thing?
My kid: Yeah, you know, the blue plasticy thing?
Me: Oh! Yes! THAT teeny tin blue plasticy thing that came with the thing.
(Miraculous fetch blue plasticy thing that came with the thing.)
My kid: Thanks!
Me: Back to dinner…
My kid: MOOOOMMM! He hit me!
Me: No hitting! OK, dinner…
My kid: Mom, my butt itches.
Me: Scratch it! Wait, what I was I doing?
My kid: Mom! I’m hungry! Why is dinner taking so long?
Me: Dinner! Right! That’s it!
You get the picture. Bottom line, if you want dinner or anything else, kids, STOP INTERRUPTING ME!